


Turnabout

by KlavierRPF (KlavierWrites)



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ace Attorney, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlavierWrites/pseuds/KlavierRPF
Summary: Park Jaehyung is a defence attorney who frequently works pro-bono, currently trying to get his best friend acquitted for a crime he didn't commit.Kim Wonpil is the prosecutor who has a bit of a soft spot for him.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Park Sungjin, Kim Wonpil/Park Jaehyung | Jae
Comments: 10
Kudos: 145





	Turnabout

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was based on a conversation I had with [@notfinenotfine](https://twitter.com/notfinenotfine) on Twitter! It's inspired by the video game series Ace Attorney. If you've played the games, that's pretty obvious. If you haven't, it'll just read like a lawyer au where the legal system seems a little screwed up (I used the video game's legal system rather than spending hours looking up how it works in Korea.)
> 
> Also, it doesn't feel right not to address this given recent events in the real world, so here goes: this fic includes a fictional cop character. Please do not take his inclusion as a sign of my support of the police force, because it absolutely is not. ACAB. 
> 
> My Twitter: [@eajpils](https://twitter.com/eajpils)  
> My old Ace Attorney fics if that's your cup of tea: [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlavierWrites/pseuds/KlavierWrites/works?fandom_id=1034737)

Jae scrubs his hand over his face and groans. He’s got a killer headache forming and he’s been at his desk for almost four hours, pouring over old newspaper articles and police reports. It’s no use, he can’t find a way to definitively link his current case to the DY-6 incident four years ago. Sungjin’s testimony alone won’t be enough.

“Everything alright, hyung?” asks Dowoon, making Jae jump. He’d honestly forgotten he was there.

“We’re screwed,” says Jae, “this guy doesn’t show up in any of the trial details that were released to the public.”

Dowoon is sitting on the lumpy sofa with his laptop propped up on his knees. Dowoon’s not a defence attorney like Jae – he’s a college student with too much time on his hands. He looks thoughtful. “What about the ones that _weren’t_ released to the public?”

“Like the court record? Only judges and state prosecutors have access to that, Dowoonie.”

“Couldn’t you ask Prosecutor Kim?”

Jae laughs dryly. “I could, but he’d probably refuse to give it to me. And then threaten to report me to the bar association for collusion or something.”

“I dunno, I think he has a soft spot for you.”

Jae doesn’t even dignify that with an answer. They’ve clearly both been shut up in the office too long, Dowoon’s going loopy.

“Come on,” says Jae, getting up from his desk chair and stretching, “we need a break.”

“Coffee?” Dowoon guesses, but Jae shakes his head.

“Not that kind of break – if we leave now, we can get to the detention centre in time for visiting hours.”

Dowoon brightens at the suggestion. His enthusiasm to visit a literal prison just goes to show how bleak things have gotten at Park & Park Law Offices since Sungjin was arrested.

“Hyung!” says Dowoon excitedly, sitting down before Jae and beaming at Sungjin through the plexiglass. Sungjin doesn’t look good, but he smiles anyway. Jae thinks he’s probably keeping it together for Dowoon’s sake and feels a little bad for bringing him.

“How’re you holding up?” asks Jae, sitting down and taking the phone from Dowoon.

“Terribly, but that’s not important,” says Sungjin, “how’s finding evidence going?”

“Also terribly,” says Jae, “sorry.”

Sungjin sighs, making the speaker crackle noisily. “Nothing? I’m absolutely sure I remember seeing that asshole on the witness stand that day.”

The asshole in question is called Min Wooseok, and he’s the guy that Sungjin allegedly held at gunpoint and demanded empty all the money in his till. A story that the police and Prosecutor Kim believe despite the fact it makes zero sense. And Jae’s not just saying that as Sungjin’s best friend – he’s saying that as his lawyer. Said asshole was also somehow involved in DY-6, the first big criminal trial Sungjin worked on after law school.

“You need the court transcript,” says Sungjin.

“Easier said than done.”

“Ask Prosecutor Kim, he likes you.”

Jae rolls his eyes. “He really doesn’t.”

Dowoon, who can only hear Jae’s side of the conversation after handing over the phone, says, “are you talking about Prosecutor Kim? He told Jae-hyung he’d ‘never met a lawyer like him’ the other day.”

“I don’t think that’s a good thing,” says Jae.

“Suck it up and ask him,” says Sungjin. “My life literally depends on it.”

He does have a point.

In the end, the opportunity naturally presents itself – he slams right into it. Which is to say he’s not looking where he’s going as they’re leaving the detention centre, and he walks right into Prosecutor Kim Wonpil himself.

Despite Jae being taller, he’s somehow still the one who ends up flat on his ass in the middle of the visitor’s entrance. Prosecutor Kim barely even stumbles. Dowoon sniggers.

“Oh,” says Kim, looking down at him with wide eyes, “are you ok?”

“Fine,” says Jae, trying and failing not to flush under Prosecutor Kim’s concerned gaze.

Kim holds out a hand and Jae takes it reluctantly, a little worried he might actually pull the shorter-framed man down with him. But he gets up off the ground with only his dignity bruised.

“Here to see the other Defence Attorney Park?” guesses Kim.

“Just seen him.”

Kim nods. “I wanted to talk to him myself, but I got the hours wrong.”

Jae squints at him. That’s suspicious, right? Kim Wonpil is the prosecutor assigned to this case; his job is literally to find Sungjin guilty. “Mind if I ask why?”

Kim looks surprised at his hostile tone, his mouth falling open a little. “Whatever you’re thinking,” he says, “it’s nothing like that.”

“What is it like, then?”

Kim’s eyes dart to the upper corner of the room where the security camera is located and then back to him. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, alright? Over coffee.”

Jae’s so surprised at the offer he agrees before he can think it through.

“Great,” says Kim, smiling widely at him. It knocks his intimidating aura down a significant number of pegs. “10.30am at the Starbucks nearest the courthouse, ok? Don’t be late.”

With that, the prosecutor turns on his heel and strides out of the building.

“What the fuck just happened?” asks Jae to nobody in particular. Dowoon shrugs.

A little bit of background: Jae’s been a practicing defence attorney for about five years. Sungjin is a friend from law school, although he was in the year below. About two years ago, they finally opened up their own law office together. Dowoon showed up to help around that time.

They’re barely keeping their heads above water financially. Unlike prosecutors, who get paid by the state, defence attorneys get paid by their clients. And both he and Sungjin have a habit of waiving fees and working pro-bono if they think someone needs their help.

Kim Wonpil is younger than Jae, but he’s some kind of prodigy because he’s been practising law longer than him. He’s also ruthless – determined to get a guilty verdict and highly skilled at twisting even the defences’ witnesses’ testimonies into something that looks bad for the defendant.

Honestly, he’s kind of scary.

Jae’s faced Prosecutor Kim in court so many times that Sungjin jokes that he’s his own personal prosecutor – he always seems to be assigned to the cases Jae’s working on. They’re not friends, but they know each other pretty well in a professional sense. He’s never seen him outside of work before.

“Sorry I’m late,” says Jae, sitting down opposite Prosecutor Kim in a flurry. Kim looks up from his laptop. Jae’s never seen him in casual clothes before – he looks strange in jeans and a loose-fitting brown sweater. Far less intimidating.

“You’re not. 10.30 exactly.”

Jae gestures to the prosecutor’s half-finished drink and laptop. He smiles, “I got here early to get some work done, don’t worry about it. Have you ordered yet? I can pay since it was my idea to meet.”

“If you’re sure. Caramel latte with almond milk?” Jae’s suddenly worried his order seems childish.

Kim doesn’t bat an eyelid. “You get settled; I’ll be right back.”

Jae nods. He hadn’t been sure what to bring, so he’d just grabbed his work satchel with a couple of case notes and his laptop in it. He glances at Kim’s side of the table and abruptly realises what he’d taken for coffee is actually hot chocolate. Cute.

Kim comes back a few minutes later with Jae’s drink and a pastry. “No pressure to eat it,” he says, “I just thought you might not have had breakfast.”

“Thanks, Prosecutor Kim.”

Kim frowns, his bottom lip jutting slightly. “Hey, we’re not at work. You can call me Wonpil, you know.”

“Ok. Then thanks, Wonpil-ssi.” It feels strangely natural – he doesn’t really look like a prosecutor in casual clothes, his hair all fluffy rather than combed back.

“You’re older than me, right?” says Wonpil, his lips twitching up into a slightly teasing smile, “So: Jae-hyung.”

The familiarity makes Jae feel kind of hot under the collar. “Er– that’s– you can call me that.”

Wonpil’s returning smile is adorable. It doesn’t fit the somewhat cold mask he wears in court at all. He gets something out of his satchel and lays it on the table. “So, first thing’s first: I got you the crime scene report.”

“Shit, thank you,” says Jae, taking it. He normally has to beg the detectives to get this before the trial. He flips it open and scans the first page. “Wait,” he says, “I thought Detective Kang was in charge of this case?”

Wonpil’s eyes twinkle. “He took himself off it, he was worried about a conflict of interest.”

Detective Kang is one the few people in the police force Jae actually trusts. “What? Why?”

“You don’t know?” asks Wonpil, delighted, “he’s got a thing for your boy Park Sungjin – apparently they’ve been flirting over dead bodies at crime scenes.”

Well. Sungjin had kept _that_ quiet. “No way.”

“Yes way,” says Wonpil, “he’s been pining, it’s adorable.”

Jae remembers himself. “Hang on,” he says, “you’re awfully chipper considering you’re supposed to be trying to put Sungjin behind bars.”

“I’m supposed to be finding the truth,” says Wonpil sharply, his earlier cheeriness vanishing. “If Park’s innocent, it’ll be made clear in court.”

His gaze is piercing. Jae swallows. “Do you think he did it?”

“Personally? I have my doubts. But professionally, I won’t go easy on you because it’s your friend on trial, Jae-hyung.”

Jae matches his gaze. “I don’t need you to go easy on me.”

“Great,” says Wonpil, shattering the tense atmosphere by sitting back in his chair and smiling again. “Well, there’s another reason I invited you here. I think I’ve found a link between this incident and trial Defence Attorney Park was involved in a few years back.”

“DY-6, right?” says Jae immediately.

Wonpil nods. “I knew you’d already be on the same page.”

“Well, I’m sure Sungjin will talk to you if you want, but his testimony won’t stand up on its own,” says Jae moodily. “Dowoon and I spent ages looking for something more concrete yesterday, but we can’t find anything. It’s like his name was kept out of the papers deliberately.”

Wonpil purses his lips. “There’s something else I was going to give you,” he says, “but if anyone asks, you have to be really vague about where you got it, alright?”

“Ok,” says Jae warily.

Wonpil pulls another document out from his satchel, this one significantly bigger than the crime scene report. “Is that–” starts Jae. Wonpil nods.

“Full court record and transcripts for DY-6.”

“You’re actually giving me this? Won’t that hurt your case?”

“It’s not a fair trial if both sides don’t have equal access to the evidence,” says Wonpil airily, “don’t you think?”

If Jae had thought their hesitant friendship might make Wonpil go easier on him in court, he was sorely mistaken. Wonpil is brutal, picking holes in every theory Jae posits; smiling and laughing with every witness to get them on his side, and generally making thing even harder than they already are.

The first day in court, Jae doesn’t bring up DY-6. The timing’s not right. But on the second he does, and he thinks he sees relief in Wonpil’s eyes when their gazes meet across the courtroom. It’s not enough, though. Jae can prove that Min Wooseok and Sungjin had met before, and even that Sungjin had been kind of harsh towards him on the witness stand, but it doesn’t exactly prove he’s lying. But it adds doubt, and that at least gets the trial extended to a third day.

“Hey, mind if I intrude for a moment?” asks Wonpil. They’re in the defendant’s lobby after the trial, and Dowoon and Sungjin both go silent when they see him.

“Er– go ahead,” says Jae. 

“Sorry about today,” says Wonpil to Sungjin, who looks baffled, “I hope you don’t take any of this as an attack on your character.”

Sungjin shrugs. “I mean, it is. But it’s also your job, so no hard feelings.”

Wonpil nods and turns his attention back to Jae. “What are your plans for this afternoon?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jae sees Dowoon’s jaw drop. “I was probably going to review the case a little more. Maybe take another look at the crime scene if the detective will let me in. Why?”

“Come by my office at some point,” says Wonpil.

Wonpil’s office is in the Prosecutor’s Office downtown, and it’s honestly so much nicer than Jae’s. It’s full of the kind of furniture that looks simple but that you can tell probably costs a lot, and there are various soft-looking throw cushions around the place and a fluffy rug. The whole room is brightly lit and has rather more pastel colours than Jae would have expected. He thinks he spots a rabbit plushie on the windowsill.

“Defence Attorney Park,” says Wonpil, clearly in business mode, “thanks for coming.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” asks Jae, hovering in the doorway.

“We’re just waiting on someone, come on in.”

Puzzled, Jae obeys, coming into the room and sitting down on the plush sofa. “Who are we waiting for?”

His question is answered almost immediately when the door opens again, and Detective Kang pokes his head through the gap. “We good to go?” he asks.

“Yep,” says Wonpil. Jae is distinctly confused. Detective Kang is in plain clothes, a Metallica t-shirt and jeans, and he nods to Jae when he sees him.

“Jae-ssi, right?”

“Yeah,” says Jae, “and you’re Brian.”

Detective Kang grimaces. “It’s Younghyun, actually,” he says, “but the uniformed officers insist on calling me Brian. It’s kind of an inside joke that got out of hand.”

“I’m going to call you Brian,” says Jae.

Brian sighs. There is an air of resignation to it.

“Also, no offence dude,” says Jae, “but why are you here? You’re not working on this case anymore.”

Brian goes a little red around the ears. “Doesn’t mean I’m not still invested in it.”

“I’ll be sure to let Sungjin know.”

“Shut up.”

“Boys,” says Wonpil, “no fighting. We’re here to work. Detective Kang, if you please?”

“Ok,” says Brian, “so this is the situation: basically, Min Wooseok had a motive to frame Sungjin-hyung. You know the woman he implicated in the DY-6 trial to get his client a not guilty? She was his girlfriend at the time.”

“How do you know?”

“Tracked down her mom and asked. Apparently, she didn’t approve of him – thinks it’s his fault her daughter turned out to be a murderer – so she was happy to talk.”

“Damn,” says Jae. “Any chance the mom can be persuaded to take the stand tomorrow?”

“Nope,” says Brian, “already asked.”

“Anyone else willing to link the two?”

“Not that I found.”

“Don’t look so miserable, Jae-hyung,” says Wonpil, “there’s hope yet.”

“I need more than hope. I need evidence, testimony, _something.”_

“Exactly,” says Wonpil, “so use my office. You’ll have access to all my legal books and court documents. And my help, of course.”

Jae bites his lip. “That’s definitely collusion,” he says.

Wonpil shrugs. “I’ll still pick apart whatever evidence or theory you present at trial tomorrow, what does it matter where you got it from?”

Jae considers it. “Why are you helping me so much with this?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do. And because Younghyunie-hyung will cry if he’s convicted.”

“I hate you,” says Brian. Jae notices he doesn’t deny it.

“Oh, hey,” says Jae, “it’s visiting hours at the detention centre soon, right? I told Sungjin earlier I probably wouldn’t be going so I could work on his defence, so if you wanted to…”

“D’you think he’d want to see me?” asks Brian, a little too eagerly.

“Yeah, man.”

“And you two don’t need my help?”

“We’ll call if we do,” says Wonpil.

“Right,” he says, “Ok. I better head off, then.” Brian wastes no time in leaving.

“Ok,” Jae admits, “they’re pretty cute.” 

“Right?” says Wonpil brightly, “they’re basically my OTP at this point.”

It takes them all evening. It’s a lot of research and reading and calling up everyone who was even slightly involved in the case four years ago. At about seven, Wonpil shrugs on his jacket and leaves to get them food, coming back with a box fried chicken and insisting Jae stops working to eat.

“You’ll be more effective after a break,” says Wonpil. His top buttons are undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jae is aware that he is both tired and hungry, but he thinks that even if his brain was working at full capacity, he’d think Wonpil looks ridiculously hot like that. It’s just kind of a fact of the universe.

Jae figures they’ll talk about the case as they eat, but Wonpil’s serious about it being a break.

“So why does Dowoon follow you around on your cases?” asks Wonpil conversationally, “is he like an intern or something?”

Jae swallows his bite before speaking. “Nah,” he says, “he’s a grad student.”

“What’s he studying?”

“Criminology,” says Jae, “which is how he justifies tagging along, even though his thesis is on statistical analysis.”

“Sounds dry.”

“Says the lawyer to the other lawyer.”

“Point,” says Wonpil. “Our jobs may be dry, but they’re not boring.”

“’Spose not.” Jae’s fingers are greasy. He can’t exactly wipe them on his pants, he’s still wearing his suit. And Wonpil’s couch is a definite no-no. Wonpil sees his struggle and passes him a paper napkin. “Thanks.”

“How do you know him, then? Dowoon?”

“He’s Sungjin’s cousin,” says Jae. “Why all the questions about Dowoonie?”

Wonpil shrugs, but it looks stiff. “Just curious, since he’s always hanging around with you. Are you two…?”

It takes Jae a second to realise what Wonpil’s asking. “Ew, no. He’s basically my baby brother.”

Is it Jae’s imagination, or does Wonpil relax a little at that?

“I always think it must be nice,” says Wonpil, “working in a little law office like yours. You have proper co-workers you get along with.”

“I walked past like ten other offices to get here. You’re on the second floor.”

“Doesn’t mean I get on with any of them,” says Wonpil, pouting. “Prosecutors are so competitive.”

At that, Jae has to laugh. “Please tell me you’re including yourself in that.”

“I’m not competitive!”

“Dude, you glare daggers at me across the courtroom.”

“That’s not competitive, that’s just doing my job!”

Wonpil looks so offended that Jae only laughs harder. “Until this week, I deadass thought you hated me. You’re scary as shit in court, dude.”

Wonpil stares at him. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah! You’re totally scary. You’re so serious during the trials, and you have everyone wrapped around your little finger–”

“No, not that,” says Wonpil, “you thought I hated you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“But I’d always compliment you after!”

Jae snorts. “ _’Well played, Defence Attorney Park. I look forward to facing you in court again,_ ’” he mimics, in his best approximation of Wonpil’s courtroom voice.

Wonpil crosses his arms. It’s adorable. “Mimicking me isn’t very nice, Jae-hyung. I was just trying to be professional.”

“I know that _now_ ,” says Jae, and he’s amazed to find he really does. He’s not even spent that long with Wonpil outside of work and he already understands him so much better. “But before, I had no idea about your–” he struggles for the right word, “ _duality_.”

Wonpil preens a little. “I like to keep my professional life and my personal life separate.”

Jae gestures to the almost empty box of chicken between them. “What’s this then?”

“Me letting you into my personal life,” says Wonpil primly. “You should be very honoured.”

After a few more dud calls, Jae finds somebody who’s willing to talk on the stand tomorrow as a witness for the defence. Wonpil, meanwhile, finds all kinds of details about probable cause and how to officially implicate someone in his scary-looking legal tomes that he slides under Jae’s nose.

(“I did go to law school, you know.”

“A refresher never hurts, hyung.”)

By the time Jae’s ready to go, he’s so tired he’s practically dead on his feet.

“Are you safe to drive?” asks Wonpil.

“Nope,” says Jae, “but I also don’t have a car, so it’s chill.”

Wonpil frowns. “I’ll drive you home.”

The protectiveness makes Jae’s heart flutter excitedly, even as another part of him feels annoyed that it’s not him being the protective one. He could totally be protective of Wonpil if the need arose. Not that Wonpil isn’t extremely capable, but he is younger and… delicate-looking. Kind of. Maybe pocket-sized is the right word.

Jae needs to go to bed.

Jae’s last-minute witness helps – an old friend of Min’s who is able to confirm not only Min’s romantic relationship with the woman who was eventually charged with murder, but that Min had cursed out Sungjin after the trial. After that, it’s just a matter of inviting Min Wooseok to the stand again to testify. Jae presses him on every little detail, points out every little flaw in his story, and eventually he cracks. He tells the whole courtroom that he made it up, that he was trying to get revenge on Sungjin for implicating his girlfriend in a murder four years ago. It’s a hell of a breakdown. They get their not-guilty.

“You’re freeee!” shrieks Dowoon the minute they enter the defendant’s lobby. High on the win, Dowoon launches himself at Sungjin, throwing his arms around his middle in a bear hug.

Sungjin grins, patting him on the back before gently pushing him off. “That I am, Dowoon-ah. Thanks to you and hyung.”

“Not just us, though. We had _help_ ,” says Dowoon meaningfully.

“Oh?” Sungjin turns to Jae, eyebrows raised. “I’m guessing that little visit to Prosecutor Kim’s office was helpful, then?”

“He was there _hours._ And then Prosecutor Kim drove him home. _”_

“Shut up, Dowoonie,” says Jae. He knows what he’s insinuating, and it wasn’t like that. “So Sungjin, I heard Detective Kang visited you yesterday evening?”

It’s underhanded, but it works. Dowoon’s eyes go wide and he immediately starts hounding Sungjin for an explanation, Jae and Wonpil quite forgotten.

Speaking of Wonpil, Jae had half been expecting him to show up. He slips out of the defendant’s lobby with the idea of going to find him but pauses in the hallway. He realises he has no idea where exactly it is prosecutors go before and after trials.

He’s not the only person hovering in the hallway though – he spots Brian peering at doors lower down. “Hey,” he says, walking towards him, “the defendant’s lobby’s that way.”

He points to the room he’s just come from. Brain doesn’t immediately move.

“Do I need, like, your approval or something?” he asks.

“What?”

“To date Sungjin-hyung.”

Jae laughs. “I’m his best friend, not his dad.”

Brian shrugs. “Thought I’d check.”

Jae doesn’t know Brian all that well, but he seems like a good dude. “I mean, you’ve got it if you want it. My approval.”

Brian grins at him. “Cool. You’ve got my approval to date Wonpil, too. If you want.”

Jae inhales so sharply he splutters. “I–”

The detective’s gaze is too knowing. “Just so you know, he’d say yes if you asked him out. He thinks you’re hot.”

Butterflies spring into Jae’s stomach. “Noted,” he says.

“Well, I’m going to go see Sungjin-hyung,” says Brian, “There’s a meeting room that the prosecutors use downstairs, if you’re looking for Wonpil. Second door on the right.”

He finds Wonpil where Brian said he would. He’s sorting through his case notes on the wooden table and looks up as Jae enters.

“Defence Attorney Park,” he says, straightening up, “we meet again. Congratulations on a case well-fought.”

Jae’s momentarily startled by the return to formal address, but then he realises Wonpil’s lips are twitching. “Likewise, Prosecutor Kim. I hope to see you in court again soon.”

Wonpil giggles, formal tone dropping. “Seriously, hyung, you did well. What did you come and find me for?”

“Just wanted to say thank you, really. Not a lot of prosecutors would have helped like that.”

“It’s not fair that defence attorneys have to jump through so many hoops to get state documents when prosecutors have easy access to them,” says Wonpil, “and Park was clearly being set up. I was just doing the right thing.”

“Still,” says Jae, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Thanks.”

They look at each other for a moment. Wonpil bites his lip. “If I’m being honest, Jae-hyung, I did have a teensy ulterior motive.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I wanted you to like me,” says Wonpil, flushing.

So, here’s the thing: Wonpil is kind of exactly Jae’s type. And he’s always really admired his legal skills. And he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t always a bit of sexual tension when they argued in court, Sungjin had even teased him about it once.

Ah, fuck it. They’re a defence attorney and a prosecutor. It’s hardly fucking Romeo and Juliet, and he should stop acting like it.

“Do you want to get a coffee sometime?” asks Jae, “Not to discuss a case, just as friends. Or as a date, if you’re up for it.”

“I was hoping you’d ask,” says Wonpil, smiling.

“Ok, cool. Later this week?”

Wonpil picks up the documents laid out on the table and stuffs them into his satchel. “How about right now?” he says, slinging the bag onto his shoulder.

Jae laughs. He kind of loves how pushy Wonpil is. “Well, I was going to grab lunch with Sungjin to celebrate, but I think he might be busy with Brian. So, sure.”

“Great,” says Wonpil, “just so you know, I don’t kiss until the third date.”

“Do the meetings at the Starbucks across the road and your office count as dates?”

Wonpil smirks. “If you’re lucky they do.”

They go out for coffee. It turns out Jae’s pretty damn lucky.


End file.
